32. Pink

Pink

Two months later

“ Three hives? Really?” Bella leapt across the couch, practically tackling me against the cushions. “Thank you, Jare-bear.”

“Merry Christmas, Belles,” I choked out.

“Me next,” June insisted, holding her hands out in front of her. “Dani, pass me a present, would you? There’s got to be something under that ginormous tree for me.”

Ginormous was an understatement. It had taken four of us to squeeze the massive fir into Nessa and Nero’s living room. Maybe I had gone a little overboard with the tree and decorations, but it was my first Christmas in Rose City—my first Christmas with Nessa—and I was determined to make the most of it.

Oh, what a difference a year could make. It was hard to believe that only a year ago, I had been slurping down ramen noodles in some tiny hole-in-the-wall outside of Brattleboro, Vermont. Having lived most of her adult life married and with a full staff, our mom had never been much of a cook. Instead, she, Bella, and I had braved the elements and enjoyed Christmas dinner at the only open establishment in town.

With Bella living next door now, I had offered to fly Mom out to join us for Christmas. Much to my surprise, she had already made plans with her new boyfriend, a tree surgeon named Dennis.

I was happy for her. Hell, I was just downright happy.

We had started renovations on Matty’s farmhouse just before Thanksgiving, and things were off to a swimming start. In fact, thanks to the help of his brother and sister-in-law, we were about a week ahead of schedule. They had even offered to help with some fixes on my townhouses, assuming we wrapped up Matty’s in time.

Bella had settled in nicely in Rose City. As discussed, she had finished the last of her coursework online and had requested a leave of absence for the next semester. It was difficult not to press her on it, especially since she only needed another twenty credits to complete her degree—one of them, at least—but I backed off when I saw how happy she was. She had a part-time job, she had friends, and she was even taking a ski trip to Mount Hood next week to ring in the new year.

And now she had her bees, or at least the foundation for them. The poison garden would have to wait.

A blur of red-and-white stripes darted through the kitchen, refilling mugs of coffee and hot cocoa.

My Christmas angel.

Santa didn’t need to bring my anything this year; waking up next to the woman I loved, in matching candy cane pajamas—because, yes, we were that couple—was more than I could have asked for and all I would ever need.

Nessa was the vine to my tomato, the pancakes to my syrup.

When Soren and Clarke had first gotten together, he’d introduced me to a band called Lawrence—a pop-soul group that sounded more like an amalgamation of Janis Joplin and Stevie Wonder than the usual pop singers of today. Several of their songs now populated my pregame playlist, but there was one in particular—an upbeat love song called “Guy I Used to Be”—that always made me think of Nessa.

In the song, the lead singer crooned about letting go of the man he used to be in favor of creating a new life—a better life—with the person he loved.

That was exactly what I wanted with Nessa.

She made life better. She made me want to be better—for her, for my team and family, though these days, it seemed more like our family. Anything that fell outside of those didn’t seem to matter anymore.

My heart lit up with glee when she came bustling out of the kitchen, mugs in hand. “Here you go, babe.”

“Thanks, angel.”

She sat back down on the couch, nestling into the empty space beneath my arm that might as well have been made for her. This was our first Christmas together and as such, we had decided on a few new traditions to instill.

Starting with “Sexy Christmas Eve,” a tradition co-opted from one of our favorite fictional couples, Tedd Lasso ’s Roy and Keeley. We had spent all yesterday blissfully naked in bed, testing out her new shibari ropes and my new butt plug.

Talk about a merry fucking Christmas.

We had also both agreed that matching pajamas were a must, not just for us, but for anybody spending Christmas with us at Nessa’s house. Bella, June, and Dani had been onboard from the start, but it had taken a bit of cajoling to talk Nero into that candy cane onesie. June had almost spit out her coffee when she’d noticed the butt flap in the back.

There was something brewing between the two of them, but Nessa and I had agreed to stay out of it. Dani and Coach Ward were off limits, too, though if I had to guess, they weren’t as finished with each other as they’d claimed. It wasn’t my business though. I was a reformed swooper.

Well, more of a diet swooper, but still.

The Christmas cookie cook-off began promptly at ten a.m. this morning, because that was what happened when you lived with an organized perfectionist like Dani. For two hours, the six of us had baked tray after tray of holiday cookies—minus the eggs—for this evening’s cookie exchange with the rest of the Roasters family.

“Aw, I love it.” June held up the ornament she had just finished unwrapping. The double-sided snow globe featured two pictures of June, Nessa, and Kaylani—one from when they’d been kids, and another taken during this year’s Buns & Roses festival.

Kaylani and Ryan had rented a condo in the same building as Tuck and Roman, opting to stick around Rose City at least until they became parents. Nessa was thrilled to have her friend home, and over the last few months, she had even started to come around where Ryan was concerned. Based off the things he’d said and done to her when they’d been teenagers, she might not ever call him a friend, but she was open to getting to know him again, this time as her friend’s soon-to-be husband.

“Thanks, Ness.”

“You’re welcome.”

Her messy bun tickled my cheeks when she rested her head on my shoulder. It had been months since I’d shaved off my playoffs beard—much to Nessa’s disappointment—but a few stray hairs from her bun were nothing compared to the constant itch I had felt. I had let her talk me into trying out a mustache in the new year, though. It seemed like a fair compromise, plus 70s porn staches were making a comeback these days.

Later, after the last present had been unwrapped and we were the last two sitting by the fire, she turned in my arms.

“Are you ready for one more present?”

“Angel, you are my present.” My lips quirked up. “Besides, you stuffed my stocking pretty thoroughly last night.”

That was putting it mildly. She had played with my cock for nearly an hour while fucking me with her strap-on. After a quick shower, followed by a not-so-quick sixty-nine on her bed, she’d let me take her ass bent over the chair in her bedroom. It was safe to say that both our assholes were a bit more tender than usual today.

She tugged me up and off the couch. “C’mon. You have to put on a jacket first.”

What is she up to?

I did as she requested, covering up my candy cane pjs that left little to the imagination, and followed her outside. Together, we walked around the house, past the large oak tree draped in twinkle lights. The soft dusting of snow on the ground wasn’t quite the white Christmas I was used to, but so long as I had Nessa by my side, I would spend every holiday season in a shack at the ends of the Earth.

“Angel,” I said, sniffling back the cold teasing my nose. “I love you, but it’s fucking cold outside.”

“What happened to my New England boy?”

“Please, there’s a reason I left the East Coast.”

She laughed at my pain.

We came to an abrupt stop on the east side of the house. “So, what do you think?”

I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be looking for. There were no boxes or bows, no shovels for digging the buried treasure hidden beneath an imposing X. There was no X either.

“Will it do?”

I arched a brow. “For what exactly?”

“Your poison garden.”

“What?” I croaked.

She rubbed her hands down my arms. “You were going to give it up so Bella could have her bees. I couldn’t let that happen.” I was still trying to find the words to express my gratitude when she added, “Besides, it’ll be nice having easy access to toxic plants. You know just in case you piss me off one too many times.”

Something between a laugh and a sob bubbled out of me.

“Hey, I was just kidding.” She brushed away my tears. “We can find another spot—”

“It’s perfect.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I just—” I sniffled again. “Thank you. This is the best thing anybody has ever gotten me.”

“Well, shit,” she said around a smile. “Now your expectations are going to be high. What the hell will I get you next year?”

The fact that she could envision a future for us together lit a fire inside of me. That was all I really wanted, though a poison garden was a close second. We hadn’t officially moved in together yet, but it was only a matter of time. She already had an entire closet at my place, and soon enough, I would have a garden at hers.

When I cradled her face in my hands, the sun glinted off my ring. The one on my middle finger that signified I was a World Series champion. I had never been much for jewelry, and at first, the very idea of wearing a diamond-encrusted ring worth nearly six figures had given me hives. But Nessa had reminded me that the ring was more than a trophy or keepsake—it was a symbol of years of hard work and sacrifices finally paying off.

It was an honor to wear the ring, and if I had things my way—as I often did—I wouldn’t be the only one of the two of us with a diamond ring on their finger next Christmas.

“So, there’s going to be a next Christmas?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

“Well, baseball boy,” she said, nuzzling my neck with her lips. “That tends to happen every December twenty-fifth.”

“Smart-ass.”

“You love it.”

“I love you.”

She tilted her head back and searched my eyes. She must have found whatever she’d been looking for because her lips curled up into a devious grin, one that inspired wishful thinking and wicked promises.

A few of my favorite things.

She leaned up on her toes and brushed her lips over mine. “That’s my good boy.”